


Another Way

by Zifeara



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Just quick musings, Rambling about things, Very Confused Babies, borrowed friend, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zifeara/pseuds/Zifeara
Summary: Just a fun little thing I made borrowing a friend. What if we really are all the WoL (at least those of us who choose to be), just at different times and places?
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 5





	Another Way

**Author's Note:**

> Short ramble I wanted to make about what it must be like to be the WoL of another shard, on another data center where we can't play together, featuring my friend Korey's (@reallycoolsword on Twitter) WoL! Almost none of my friends headcanon their character as the actual WoL, lol, so I nabbed his girl for a second since I wanted to make this anyhow and Fyn is a super cutie.

For all the things she'd seen and lived through, one would have thought her unflappable. Yet here, in whatever odd liminal space this was, Fyn had never felt so out of place. She knew where she was -kind of- but everything about it was wrong. It was hard to forget what was happening in this very moment; the hot air whipped what little of her hair it could get ahold of around, the subtle rumble of heated rock, the burning of her eyes from the smoke. Ifrit. The first time. This was the first time _she_ had fought Ifrit, so who the hell was the man she was watching square up to the Primal? He wasn't anyone she knew, yet she felt like she must. The way he wielded his bow and cackled as he effortlessly evaded the swipes and jets of fire was so familiar yet she couldn't place him in her travels. His presence hovered just on the very edge of recognition, taunting her with understanding but dancing away each time she felt she could grab it. 

The instant the Primal hit the ground, another took its place. Titan rose from the body of its fallen comrade, towering and intimidating, yet the man from before didn't shy away now either. He was in different clothes but bore the same unmistakable, cocky smirk. The more she watched him fight and laugh and put a flourish into his motions, the more familiar he felt. It was a bit maddening that she phased through objects and people, unable to join in the fray, but there had to be a reason for it. Probably. Even as Garuda emerged and her sharpened feathers rained down, they all passed right through Fyn, despite how she tried to duck out of the way on reflex. 

Event after event a flashed before her, some carbon copies of things she herself had dealt with and others completely forgiegn to her until they came to rest in a very particular place she was well familiar with. She would know St. Coinach's anywhere. Just as she would the loud sound of frustration behind her.

"G'raha?" No one had been able to hear her thus far, but the elation of seeing her beloved overwrote rational sense.

He was there, tail bristled and ears back, spitting at the man and gesticulating wildly. It had to be said, there was an overwhelming amount of red steeped in his cheeks and it was starting to creep down his neck- something Fyn was only used to seeing when she truly managed to embarrass him. Now that she had a better sense of scale thanks to G'raha's presence, it became plain that the man was tall even for a Miqo'te. G'raha outsized her and the man practically _towered_ over him. 

"You're a boorish _asshole_ Z'phyr Tia- I can't believe I ever asked for your help!" G'raha was yelling despite the mortified waver in his voice. 

Z'phyr? What an odd name for a Seeker; she'd never met someone purportedly from the Z tribe, that was for certain. She hadn't been aware there still was one. Regardless, he must have done something terrible to get G'raha so riled, meaning she already didn't like him. He held his hands up, grin never faltering as he glanced to Rammbroes, the tall Roe seemingly at a loss in the situation.

"What, I just said you'd probably look cute in that dress! Are you really so insecure that out of all the things I've said, _that_ got to you?" She tried not to snort, really she did. Z'phyr shrugged, "Hells, I know I'd look amazing in it- I had three sisters and have been shoved into worse outfits."

While Rammbroes laughed loudly, G'raha only became more agitated. The red was making its way into his _chest_ he was so embarrassed. "Go fuck yourself!"

She once more forgot she was an invisible bystander even as she tried to catch G'raha's arm when he stormed past her. It hurt that she couldn't try to lighten his mood, though it meant she was privy to an aftermath he likely was not. Z'phyr's ears fell and his tail tucked. He turned to their companion, clearly unsure of what he'd just done.

"I- I didn't mean to _truly_ make him mad, I just…"

Rammbroes sighed and shook his head, less bothered about the outburst. "He isn't angry, lad. He _thinks_ he is, but he doesn't turn colors when he's mad- only when he's been shown up."

"Are you still mad at me?" Fyn blinked and she'd moved, now sitting on G'raha's cot in his tent. Z'phyr was peeking in through the closed flaps as the redhead scribbled at one of his many journals.

"No," G'raha mumbled, "and… I wasn't really to begin with." He glanced up, meeting Z'phyr's -now that she was actually looking at them- beautiful odd eyes. "I was just…"

Z'phyr stepped all the way in, hiding something behind his back. "It doesn't matter- I was messing with you and I pushed too hard. I'm sorry."

Now that he was right in front of G'raha's little table desk, he leaned over, holding his prize just in front of the redhead's book. Placed neatly in his palm was what looked to be a bracelet- glowing a muted yellow. It was plainly Allagan, a tried and true method of getting out of any trouble she'd ever been in with G'raha. Sure enough, the redhead's eyes grew wide as saucers and he softly ran his fingers over the smooth metal.

His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Z'phyr… where did you get this?"

Ah, he knew he'd patched things right up with this. "I found it in a dormant fragment of Dalamud. Take it- I almost never wear it anymore and it'll probably be of greater use to you anyhow."

Each beat of each moment was achingly similar, yet so vastly different between the two of them. Z'phyr was there for every single one. How she found out where G'raha was ticklish. How she could sit around for hours while he talked, not entirely paying attention but just… listening to him ramble. How she found out he had such a beautiful singing voice, though Z'phyr joined him with his own instrument. How so many little things simply _lined up_ between them.

Then things were all different. Z'phyr's chocobo won G'raha over quickly. They bonded over their shared skills in archery and Z'phyr taught him things he didn't know. They _danced_ and the way they fit together was starting to make Fyn a bit jealous. Of _what_ though? This was so blatantly not _her_ G'raha- _her_ Raha had never once mentioned such a man, nor displayed an interest in men that way at all. He loved her. Loved their two beautiful children. He wouldn't give up what they had for the world and-

That was it, wasn't it? Once she had the thought, it all clicked into place. _This was not her Shard._ Not her world. Not her story. She was adrift in something else and as this man moved through her paces and paces of his own, he too became clear to her. He _was_ her, yet he wasn't. He was the her of his own Shard. Funny that they should be so similar, even if they were technically their own people. That they should both be ensnared by the same odd eyed scholar with a deep thirst for knowledge, both choose to be the hero this world needed, both obstinately refuse to let this world and the evil in it keep them down. It only made more and more sense; each time Z'phyr scowled at the same villains she'd faced, each person he helped escape an endless cycle of oppression, each kiss, each hot night he shared with the very man she married… They were _the_ Warrior of Light. That was why she knew him. She was him. And she had seen him before. 

Fyn was in tears by the time she'd been forced into the final battle with Elidibus. She had been through so much, but her Shard Double had faced a whole other kind of suffering. He had progressed through his own story faster than she had, so much misery crammed into a shorter time. But now as she turned around, it was no longer someone else's story. This was her fight, just as she remembered it. She held her gunblade and stood at the front of her small army of summoned Warriors and there he was. Z'phyr stood behind her, just as he had that fateful day- just as she'd seen him the very first time. He was their Bard. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if she had been his Gunbreaker when he fought his own battle. 

Gods she didn't want to go through this again. She knew this was where she lost G'raha and she wasn't ready for it again, _especially_ through the eyes of someone who'd lost him once before. _Please, I'm done- I'm ready to get off this ride,_ she thought to herself. _Don't do this to me again._

"Fyn? Are you alright, love?"

Her own golden eyes snapped open and she fought the compulsion to run her fingers under her left, as if that would tell her if it had somehow become purple or not. Her face turned, not of its own accord, and she'd rarely been so happy to see G'raha give her such a worried look. They were in bed, just as they had been probably mere hours ago and she was most certainly back from the strange journey she'd taken. Her eyes were definitely watering now.

"Oh G'raha, I-" Clinging to him for dear life was likely not the _best_ way to assuage his concerns over her, but it was what she needed now. Watching the her that wasn't her touch him while being unable to herself had put her in a mood even before every awful thing that would come after, but now she was back and had too many emotions to process. 

She would tell her husband, her stabilizing force, her most precious person in more ways than one what she had been through when she could stand to. For now, she would be content to be held and be thankful her story was exactly what it had been. Somewhere, on another world, she walked the same path, only with a different mind. She took different detours, rested in different places, held different people close along the way. But she was still the Warrior- same hero, same hope. 

Only another way.


End file.
